


A Real Keeper

by TheSkyrimLife



Category: Mary Poppins (Movies), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Backstory, Crossover, F/M, Fluff, I love him, Newsies - Freeform, Trans Jack, jack is a sweet innocent boi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 20:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18059375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSkyrimLife/pseuds/TheSkyrimLife
Summary: Jack vents to Jane about his past, and the parents he lost so long ago.





	A Real Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Come to the MPR Discord server! My main human AJ (or Owlsii as you'd know them here) created it, and we're always looking for new members! Link right over here! ----> https://discord.gg/hxqDNsm
> 
> Also, to those who read my B&TB chat fic, I'm so sorry I haven't updated! I'm working super hard to bring you guys new funny stuff to read. Just hang tight, friendos!

Jack thought was nice to live in Jane’s flat. Sure, it was small, but it had this homey feeling that he couldn’t really escape. The little potbellied stove in corner that heated the place, a bookshelf with some of his favorite titles, and of course, Jane. 

They were sat together on the sofa. It was the end of a long day. She was wearing his cap, playing with his hair, and he was reading  _White Fang_. “Dogs are neat,” Jack mumbled. 

Jane smiled. “They most certainly are.” 

He sighed and grabbed the hand that wasn’t twirling one of the dark strands on his head. “My aunt wouldn’t let me have a dog. She said that I was enough of a nuisance.” Jack frowned. “Next time I asked, she 'forgot’ to feed me. For a day.” 

“Your aunt doesn’t sound like a nice person.” There was sadness in her voice, but Jack didn’t turn. He hated seeing her upset. 

“She wasn’t. She only took me in after my parents died in the crash.” 

Jane cocked her head. Jack rarely brought up his family. She didn’t want to pester him, but she was curious. “What were your parents like?” 

A smile blossomed on his face. “I was actually born in New York. Mum and Dad found me on the corner when I was about six months. A note sayin’ some stuff in Spanish was in my hand. Pops took it to one of his friends who spoke the language.” The smile faded a bit into one with more sympathy. “Apparently my mother was from one of those islands in the Caribbean. Puerto-something. She came here with just the clothes on her back and I was born within a few days of arrivin’. She tried to raise me but knew that she couldn’t. Wanted a better life for me.”

Jane snuggled her head into his shoulder. 

“Dad was famous with the blue-collar workers around the city. Jack Kelly, the man who organized the massive strike for laborers.” 

A gasp echoed from Jack’s side. “Your father was the famous Jack Kelly?” 

“That’s right.” 

Jane shook her head. “I honestly don’t believe it. That’s insane!” She paused. “So that means that your mother...” 

“Was Katherine Pulitzer.” He finished. “The groundbreaking reporter. She taught me my alphabet. Dad taught me to ride a bike.” 

She leaned back into his forearm. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” 

“It never came up in conversation.” 

Her eyebrows twitched and she squinted her eyes in the typical thinking Jane look. “Wait...how did you end up in London?” 

Jack started playing with  _her_ hair at this. “The Daily Telegraph offered Mum a job. We moved over when I was two years old. I’ve lived here as long as I can remember.” 

She laughed with glee. “I can’t believe it! I’m with the son of my two greatest heroes! You’ll have to take me to meet them some time.” 

Jack was suddenly still. 

Jane knew then that they probably weren’t around for her to meet anymore. 

Finally, he spoke. “It was raining. I was with my friend Bruno at his house. Mum and Dad were taking a cab back from the cinema. They had gone to see  _The Story of the Kelly Gang_. The night was quiet and peaceful.” A pause. A shaky breath escaped his mouth. 

“A drunk driver, a man and his friends going for a joyride, smashed into the side. I heard the bang. It was only two blocks from Bruno’s flat. 

“Bruno’s mum went outside to see what happened. Everybody was screaming. ‘The paper lady is bleeding! She’s bleeding!’. I didn’t know what was happening, but I ran over and saw Dad’s cap.” He took his own cap off his head and began to rub the brim. 

That was when Jane made the stunning realization that Jack’s hat must have his father’s. “Everything after was a blur. The next thing I knew, I was in front of wicked Great Aunt Pulitzer with a suitcase and me dad’s cap.” He was quiet again. 

Jane just sat next to him as he sniffed and silent tears flowed from his face. “It’s alright, Jack, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He looked up at her, and the sight of him with his face blotchy and red broke Jane’s heart. “Should I keep goin’?” 

She stroked his hair. “Not if you don’t want to.” 

Jack sat up. “The witch was truly  _evil_. No joy existed in those eyes. The trousers that I loved? Gone. She-” Grief radiated off him. “Burned them. She just threw them in the fire without a second glance. Me dad’s mate had worked so hard to sew those for me. A blue bird was sewn into the fabric. Some music notes were coming out of its beak. I saw its little body crumble into ash.” 

In her head, Jane pictured a pair of tattered but loved blue jeans, a true American item of clothing, with a bird embroidered on the pocket. They were worn small boy with two missing front teeth and a dark mop of hair, coming just above his shoulders. They were a perfect match for each other. 

She squeezed his hand. 

“Me pants were gone, me parents were gone, so me cap was all I had left. I knew that the Witch didn’t like Dad, so I hid it under my mattress. 

“Every two weeks, I suppose, Bert would come by, cleaning brushes and chalk, and sweep our chimney.” The smile returned to Jack’s face. “He saw me hungry once, so he gave me his sandwich. He showed me how to climb up onto the roof of the buildings. We would have lots of fun together, me an’ him. All of me dumb skirts got in the way, so he took a pair of his old trousers and cut them just below the knee, my perfect size. I stowed them with me dad’s cap, under the mattress.” Jack’s accent was coming back, and Jane couldn’t be happier to hear it. 

“We were up on the roof one day, and he told me that he’d known me Dad. I was really surprised, and then he grinned and gave me my name. ‘You’re a little Jack, y’know that? Rambunctious scamp, just like your father.’ Just like that, I had an identity.” 

Jack could tell that Jane was very pleased with this story, so he kept going. 

“One day, when Bert came by, he said he had a place for me to stay with ‘im. ‘Take this ‘an put your things in it,’, he said, and handed me a knapsack. ‘You can run off with me and you’ll never ‘afta listen to that ‘ol hag again, hm?’. 

“I ran up the stairs, grabbed me things, and off we went! I was on the back of his bike, laughing like a crazed goon.” 

Jane let out a relieved laugh and put her head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat.  _Ba-dump. Ba-dump._ “Where’d you end up staying?” 

“An old room in a flat with other workers. That’s where I met Angus, Charles, and all of me other mates. I worked as a chimney sweep for a few months, but Bert got concerned because of me asthma. Angus’s uncle taught me how to light the lamps.” 

For a while they just sat there, and Jane thought the story was over. That is, until Jack spoke up. “When I turned thirteen, Bert took me to a cellar in a dark, dark alley. The man there, Percy, his name was, gave me a vial. He told me to inject myself with the contents once a week. A tight undershirt was pressed into me hands. I wore that for years, until I was nineteen years old. Then, I went to a woman named Harriet. She put a mask over me face and did a fancy operation. 

“I don’t know how much all of me treatments cost Bert, but I’m ever grateful.” He coughed a bit and got up, crossing to the other side of the room. “Damn neighbors, smoking up a storm right under our home.” He leaned out to say something, but sighed and just decided to shut the window instead. 

Jane decided that this would probably the best time to get into bed. She changed into her nightclothes and slid under the covers, waiting a few moments before she heard Jack slip off his shirt and put on what her father would’ve called a wife-beater. He just called it a tank top. 

She smiled at the warmth of skin-on-skin contact as he got under the blankets with her, resting his head on top of her own, pressing a firm kiss to her hair as she slipped into the crook of his neck. 

“Jack?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re a real keeper, y’know that?” 

She felt the muscles in his face tighten as he grinned. “I’m honored to be kept by you.” 

A small laugh and then they were off to sleep, happy as could be. 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know this was a long shot, but I threw out the idea that Jack Kelly and Jack from MPR were related somehow on the Discord. (link in the top notes). After a lot of thinking and consideration, I found out that timeline wise, it DOES work! The newsboy strike was in 1899, and Mary Poppins (original, not MPR) took place in 1910, therefore, Jack would've been around Michael and Jane's age back then.  
> I know, I know, I've written fics about Jack having a different parental thing going on, but I really like this theory, and I wanted to share it with you!  
> Also, a few quick things before I go:
> 
> Let me clear this up real fast: Wife-Beater=Tank Top
> 
> The friend of Jack Sr. who sewed the pants for Little Jack was Crutchie. I just kinda got the impression from in the musical, where he made the "STRIKE!" sign for his crutch, he got into sewing.
> 
> The invention of testosterone was actually in 1935, the last I've checked, but I moved stuff around a bit to make our boyo happy.
> 
> The Daily Telegraph is an actual British newspaper that still runs to this day. I figured that Katherine's feats with the Newsies would spread across the Atlantic and attract the attention of journalists from afar.
> 
> The Story of the Kelly Gang was a real film released in 1906. Also, I chose that old movie because, y'know, Jack KELLY? And he lead a GANG of newsboys to-never mind.
> 
> The Leerie that was mentioned along with Angus, Charles? He's a derived OC, more specifically, the leerie that Angus was doing the ring-toss with at the spring festival. He came to be on the Discord, and he's dating Angus. Those two are #couplegoals to us over there.
> 
> And last but not least, thank you to Owlsii, who's been an amazing consultant and nice person. (I'm sorry that I made Kim Kardashian and Jesus in the Sims 4 and shared it on the server) Really guys, go check them out. They sure do know how to write "guud shit". Link to them over here! ---> https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsii/pseuds/owlsii
> 
> Peace out, y'all! Comments and kudos are what keep me going, so don't forget to leave some!
> 
> (holyshitthatwassolongomgimsorry)  
> (also I probs spelled your name wrong AJ *yeets apologies at their face*)


End file.
